


Team Fifteen: Duplicates

by lemmekissurface



Series: Team Fifteen [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fanfiction, Multi, Official Characters, Transformers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemmekissurface/pseuds/lemmekissurface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Fifteen is setting off to a mission in the orbit of Cybertron, tracking Decepticon ships and being sure to report any sighting back to Cybertron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Team Fifteen is a team made entirely of Official Characters, who I will try to include art of throughout the story, but if I dont and you'd like to see them, ask and I will send you links and what not...

Brakelight twisted the screwdriver in his servo, looking down at the broken datapad he was supposed to be fixing. It's screen was cracked, and it refused to turn on, no matter what he did it seemed. It was frustrating him; He hated it when he couldn't fix something.   
He let his green optics focus on the back of the datapad before he unscrewed the back piece, setting it aside on the desk and inspecting the cords that had been hidden from view. There. One of them was severed, as if something small had decided to chew on it.  _Probably that photovoltai-cat that Sideswipe left on the ship_ , he thought to himself. 

Brakelight reached over and found a welder on the very edge of the desk, accidently sending it to the floor when his servo bumped it. With a slight groan, the neon colored mech got up and picked the welder from the floor before setting back to work on the datapad. In the back of his mind, he was wondering when the ship would lift off to orbit, because then he'd have to go to the Prime's office to register for being on the ship. It would be another interruption from his work, he thought with a blank sigh as he started fastening the wire back together.

When it shot a small spark, he jumped back in surprise with a slight squeal of surprise, the shock catching on his servo. Brakelight cursed under his breath, shaking his servo a bit to stem the slight numb feeling. After it faded, he pushed back from his work desk, seeing the datapad had turned on with the sparking. "At least I got  _you_ fixed..." 

Talking to himself, something he did often to lower the lonely feeling. Brakelight always tried to make others happy, and sometimes he was a bit too optimistic himself, and hence the others tried their best not to be around him. But, he hated that feeling of being alone, because it reminded him of his past.

His father, Barhop, had abandoned him on the side of the road as a sparkling, and he didn't know who his femme creator was. He'd grown up on the streets, having no one to go to or no one to take him in. Now that he was older, he always tried to make others happier, since he knew what it felt like to have to go around being sad or depressed all the time. Brakelight didn't want others to feel that way, not if he could help it.

He ventured over to the door, glancing back at the datapad with a slightly dismayed look before he pushed outside into the bright, stark white halls. He didn't see anyone else out there, and there was no talking like usual. It made him nervous.

"Hello?"  
No answer.

Brakelight shifted his weight to one side, looking down the hall to the right first, and then to the left as if hoping some bot on the team would just saunter out. But, that didn't happen. So, instead of simply standing there in waiting, he broke into a walk down the right hall way, the neon blue wall lights reflecting off of his already neon colored armour.

He shuffled down the hallway, occasionally calling out a hello and earning no answer, but as he continued down, he could now hear the voice of Skyblade. 

Skyblade was a Cyber-Ninja, though he was an extreme slacker. The mech was obsessed with video games, earning the title of something like the gaming king of sorts of the ship. Allot of the other mechs spent time challenging him, only to have their hopes crushed when they lost. And usually lost by a long shot.

"Skyblade?" Brakelight looked over into the training room, which was really like a large gym of sorts with a few spare training weapons hanging on the orange walls. 

"Hm? Oh, hi, Brakelight!" Skyblade looked over from where he was sitting with his helm against the wall, slumped down with a small datapad in his servos. He tilted his helm. "What's up?"

Brakelight shrugged and settled himself on the side bleachers, leaning back onto the bench like formations behind him. He didn't really have an answer to that question, he had just wanted something to do and Skyblade was the first bot he found to talk to. It wasn't like a choice really, not that Skyblade was a bad mech. He was actually quite nice.

"Nothing really...I was fixing a broken datapad for Loudmouth, but it's fixed now."

"Sounds like a load of fun."  
  


"Doesn't it though?" Brakelight laughed airily, jumped up when he accidently leaned back on one of his doorwings. "Ouch!"  
  


"That's why I am so happy to not have doorwings, Brakelight." Skyblade looked over at him with a pained face. He was telling the truth, since his alt-mode was a small Cybertronian helicopter, hence his name, though it also came from being a Cyber-Ninja as well.

"Yeah, yeah, well doorwings aren't all a burden you know!" 

"Okay, I'll take your word for it." Skyblade looked back at his datapad with a slight laugh.

 

 


	2. BlastOff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter is on a switched Point Of View, now in the view of Rotorchase. Rotorchase is not on the ship, by the way. He is already on Earth with a few other bots.

Rotorchase rolled over in the berth he was laying in, his thoughts muffled by a state of recharge. He could hear the others talking outside, like Axis for example, and he could hear Barhop as well. He groaned at the thought of having to carry on a conversation with the neon colored mech, never having quite the knack for conversing or for Barhop. Then again, not many bots did. 

Barhop's attitude was terrible, not to mention the fact that his family ran a club of sorts back on Cybertron, making him all the more perverted. Also, the fact that he was what humans would reffer to as bisexual, and it really showed when you got to know him. Though, as far as Rotorchase knew, he didn't have a spark-mate or anyone like that. 

He pushed the thought away, trying to go back to sleep again. He'd been sent to his dorm the night before by the medic, Thorn, who had said that it seemed he had some sort of illness. Of course, he had objected and tried to stay out of the dorm any chance he could, yet he still felt like complete scrap. Hence, he guessed this was why he'd slept all day, though he wished he could just get up and go out of this dorm room.

"Where's that thing..." He muttered to himself, rolling onto his other side and fumbling around on a bedside table for his datapad. At least he had that, something to amuse him while laying in the berth with what-ever sort of illness Thorn had classified him as having. Not that it really mattered, since it was keeping him in the berth either way. Or at least, Thorn was keeping him in the berth either way.

After a few more moments of sliding his servo around trying to find the datapad, he pulled it over and turned it on, flinching for a second at the sudden bright lights. Rotorchase had been sitting in this dorm in the dark for hours, if not since the day before actually. So, the sudden bright light of the datapad's screen took a moment to adjust to, and even then he made sure to turn the brightness down on it.

There wasn't much to do, so he shifted himself into a sitting position to read a bit on random things about Cybertron's past, famous leaders, and other things of the manner. This amused him for only a few minutes before he let his servo fall limp, letting the datapad slip from his grip and to his side in boredom. 

He focused his bright green optics on the ceiling above in thought, thinking about how Team Fifteen would be sent up into orbit soon. Times like these, he missed Cybertron, and he missed the team; Missed home. But, Rotorchase was a valuable member to the team he was on now, being good and nimble in combat. Though he didn't think it would be too bad if he somehow lost his battle skills, maybe even earning a chance to go home. 

The more he thought about it, the more of a dismayed mood it put him in, so he rolled over yet again and tried to focus on another topic. That topic just so happened to fade as he felt his optics closing, jerking himself awake again. He didn't want to sleep yet, he'd just woken up! 

Rotorchase shook himself awake for the second time now, trying to think of something to concentrate on. Then again, odds were that would just make him tired as well. With a faint, dismayed sigh, he closed his optics by choice now. If getting rest would help him, he might as well try the theory. Besides, Thorn would come into the room soon enough to wake him again for a check up...

***  
  


"Rotorchase? Are you awake?" 

Rotorchase heard his name and he offered a slight yawn in response as light flooded in from the open door. He muttered something inaudible under his breath and yanked the covers on the berth over his helm, trying his very best to block the light out. 

The dark black and red form of Thorn shifted in the doorway absently before he ventured fully into the room, syringe in servo. He was happy that Rotorchase was still asleep, since he had an awkward fear of needles and such things of the category, and that was what he had now.

Thorn quickly injected the younger mech with the mixture of sorts, earning a small flinch from him, but nothing more, and with that he turned and left. He expected Rotorchase to be better in a few days, tops.

Rotorchase rubbed his arm where he'd been injected with whatever the medic had given him with a slight groan. "Ow..." He muttered, letting his servo slip back to his side with another small and slightly stifled yawn. What ever the frag it was, it was sure making him all the more tired.

"Great..." Rotorchase muttered to himself, not bothering to open his optics, since the room was pitch black anyways. And, yet again, it didn't take him long to fall into recharge against his own will.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
